


The Jagged Edge

by Dayglo



Series: Connect. Disconnect. [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Song-inspired, alternating pov, fallout from CA:WS, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 00:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2328788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dayglo/pseuds/Dayglo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers tired words of a man who had lost his will to live, and a familiar sinking feeling. He remembers recognizing the desperate look in the other man's eye and the fear that had gripped him. Clint doesn't have an Other Guy to save him. There is no back up, if he decides to pull the trigger. And Clint never misses.  Fear blooms and twists in Bruce's gut.  The Other Guy is howling, tearing to be let out, so he can catch another teammate; but even they are too far away this time.  In the end, he had gotten Clint to keep trying by convincing him S.H.I.E.L.D. needed him to help rebuild.  But now there's nothing left.  He wonders how much of this is his fault.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the events of Captain America:Winter Soldier, everything changes.  For everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jagged Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: This story deals quite extensively with suicidal thoughts and discussions of suicide. Please know your triggers.

_And if you can't tell, I'm scared as hell_

_'Cause I can't get you on the telephone_

 

After S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, everyone was gone, busy.  Steve was out looking for Bucky.  Natasha was laying false trails for her and Clint's various covers to keep them safe.  Tony and Pepper were trying to keep SI afloat and take in as many displaced operatives as possible.  Clint had been on a mission and was attempting to make his way back while laying low. Thor had returned to Asgard, to seek assistance from his allies there.  Bruce...didn't really have anything to do.

Natasha had pulled him aside before she left, asking him to be there when Clint got back.  Said it'd be just a couple more days, but she didn't want him returning to an empty tower.  He'd agreed.  There was just one problem.

It's been over a week.

He spent the first day after Clint was supposed to return in his lab, and the second.  It wasn't until day three that he realized Clint had never arrived.  He'd told JARVIS to let him know when Clint entered the building, and had received no notice.  Even though he knew JARVIS couldn't forget, he checked with him anyway.  "JARVIS, has Clint gotten back yet?"

"Of course not, Dr. Banner, I would have informed you of that, per your instructions."  Bruce figured he'd earned the affronted tone the AI used on him.

"'Kay, just checking."

Day four, Bruce wandered around the building aimlessly, acutely aware he shouldn't have been alone by now.

Day five, he paced the common room, not wanting to miss it if Clint suddenly appeared.  When he didn't, Bruce did several hours of breathing exercises.  It probably wouldn't do Clint much good to return to a destroyed tower.

Day six, he sat with his phone in his hand and wondered if he should call someone.  Natasha hadn't left him a number for herself, it was too dangerous.  Steve was unreachable, too, as was Thor.  He could call Tony, though.  Nat had left him a number for Clint, but told him not to use it unless it was an emergency.  He still wasn't sure if this qualified.  In the end, his phone went unused.

On day seven, he played the conversations he'd had with Clint after Loki over and over in his head.  He became more and more scared.

On day eight, he gave in. 

"Clint, Natasha said you got out okay.  She said you'd be back at the tower by now."  He paused, whispered a question not really meant for the machine.  "Why aren't you back at the tower Clint?"

He paced and he waited and he swore.  He check his pulse, did his breathing exercises, then began the cycle all over again.  Three more days went by.

Still no Clint.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint closed the door to his hotel room and slumped down against the door, unable to summon the will to make it further into the room.  He looked at the phone in his hand.  Four missed calls.  Clint had wondered how long it'd take before anyone even noticed he was gone.  He wondered how long he'd stay free if he went back.  He wondered if he had any damn choices left at all.  His redemption was a lie.  How much time had he spent with Sitwell after New York, showing him the weak spots of the helicarrier, how he had attacked and how to make them stronger so that it wouldn't happen again?  And how much of that information had he run straight off to HYDRA with? How much of his knowledge had been used this time?  How much of this was his fault?

Against his better judgment, he listened to the messages.  To his surprise, it wasn't Tasha's voice on the line.  This was so much worse.  Bruce was the one waiting for him, dammit.  Bruce, the one who would know exactly what's going through his head right now.  Bruce, who knows the very real danger, the aching want flowing through Clint's veins; the _need_.  God, he needs this to be over; he's so tired of all this shit.

He chucked the phone across the room, where it landed on the chair against the opposite wall.  He let his head thunk against the door.  He was so chickenshit he couldn't even bring himself to break his lifeline.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks went by from the time Clint should have arrived at the Tower.

Bruce rests his forehead on the glass. Eyes closed as the phone rang, waiting for Clint to pick up, or not. _Pick up the phone Clint_.

He remembers tired words of a man who had lost his will to live, and a familiar sinking feeling. He remembers recognizing the desperate look in the other man's eye and the fear that had gripped him. Clint doesn't have an Other Guy to save him. There is no back up, if he decides to pull the trigger. And Clint never misses.  Fear blooms and twists in Bruce's gut.  The Other Guy is howling, tearing to be let out, so he can catch another teammate; but even they are too far away this time.  In the end, he had gotten Clint to keep trying by convincing him S.H.I.E.L.D. needed him to help rebuild.  But now there's nothing left.  He wonders how much of this is his fault.

He waits, as the phone continues to ring.  _God Clint, please pick up the phone._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone was ringing again. 

Every time it started up again, he wanted to sob out for Bruce to stop, just _stop,_ for the love of God.  There was nothing left for him to save.  But Clint still couldn't bring himself to get rid of the phone.  Finally, he cracked.  For the first time since he'd realized it was Bruce calling, he pressed play on his voicemail, then let the phone drop back to the table.  Clint listened to the messages as he lay listlessly on the hotel room bed.  Eight messages from Bruce later, he stared at the peeling, cracked ceiling.  The phone rang. He continued to stare.  It continued to ring.  He turned his head to the side, gazing longingly at the gun on his bedside table.  Was it just his imagination, or was the sound of the ringtone getting more desperate.  He used the last of his impetus to reach out for the bedside table.

"I'm here Bruce."

 

_Because you're not done_

_You're far too young_

_The best is yet to come_

**Author's Note:**

> Story title and song lyrics at the beginning and end are from Lullaby by Nickelback.


End file.
